


Discussions of the Future and a Bag of Jelly Babies

by Diary



Category: London Spy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Gen, Gen Fic, POV Character of Color, POV Male Character, POV Marcus Shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at how Alex's announcement of going to work for GCHQ might have gone differently. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discussions of the Future and a Bag of Jelly Babies

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own London Spy.

Years ago, a fifteen-year-old boy was deposited into Marcus Shaw’s office, and he was told, ‘Teach him.’

He’d braced himself for a smart kid out of his depth and promptly found himself out of _his_ depth when the kid quietly, politely, and instantly solved a proof he’d been trying for three years to work out.

 _I’m not going to teach him, anything_ , he’d known right then. _But if I don’t take this opportunity to learn from him, I’m nothing but a fool who doesn’t deserve his tenure._

Genius, he’s always believed, should be nurtured, observed, and most of all, learned from.

Three weeks later, he realised, _He is literally going to change the whole world someday._

Two years later, he was hit with the unpleasant thought, _He’s going to get himself killed someday._

History has consistently shown revolutionary genius pops up in unexpected times and settings, drastically changes everything before normal people can barely blink, and rarely leaves the person hosting it to have long, happy lives. Usually, imprisonment, death, or other tragedies quickly befall the one who changed everything.

Now, he thinks, _This isn’t my responsibility. I helped mould his genius -my job- and did it well. Showing any sort of personal interest is what gets people entangled in scandals._

Whatever the age of consent, Marcus never let his door be closed when it was just him and Alex before Alex turned eighteen. He’s never given him a ride to anywhere. He’s never accepted Frances Turner’s invitations for him to come over for tea unless he went over and left with several other members of the faculty.

All of this would be much easier if he didn’t feel so sorry for the boy.

He’s sure Alex wouldn’t appreciate such a descriptor (though for an entirely different reason, he certainly wouldn’t have, either), but the truth of the matter is, Alex really isn’t a man. He’s the same polite, quiet boy he was at fifteen who had no friends, no idea how to talk about anything not strictly academic, and consistently rearranged Marcus’s bookshelf by the Dewey decimal system.

He knows, if he’d ever said anything, Alex would have stopped and likely apologised, but if he can be accused of taking any sort of advantage, it would be of stepping back and finally having a clean office even the janitors couldn’t provide. Alex would absently clean, tidy, and rearrange while he talked without ever seeming to realise he was doing so.

“Professor Shaw?”

Here’s what’s expected: Congratulate, shake hands, and let GCHQ take this boy everyone, including the boy in question, knows doesn’t belong in such a place.

“I’m about to get a drink,” he says. “Care to join me?”

“Yes,” Alex practically stutters out, and the look on his normally blank face is one of confused, almost terror.

 _Maybe this will give you some idea of what I had to contend with during my three years of dealing with an underage student_ , is his unsympathetic thought.

…

They go to a nearby bar, and Alex almost stumbles.

Marcus immediately sees why: There’s a shirtless, white boy, maybe a little younger than Alex, with spiky black hair, tattered jeans, and no shoes desperately trying to get a vending machine to surrender a bag of jelly babies.

Sighing, Marcus orders Alex, “Stay.”

Walking over, he touches the boy’s shoulder. “Excuse me.” Slipping past, he inserts the money, presses the button for the jelly babies, and when they fall, says, “No need to thank me. Enjoy.”

He quickly walks back over and takes Alex inside.

Once they’ve gotten their drinks, he asks, “Did your mum apply for GCHQ on your behalf, or did they come to you?”

“They came to me,” Alex answers.

“It’s your life,” Marcus says. “Although, one might think otherwise by the fact you didn’t bother to point out you could have applied yourself.”

Alex looks down.

“You’re going to change the world, Alex. That isn’t me as your professor, and we’ve never been friends. As one man to another, you will change the world someday. Now, you can try to be happy while doing it, or you can go work with spies and professional killers and never, ever talk to a boy like the one we just saw out there.”

Alex’s whole posture changes, and when he looks up, there’s something approaching panic in his eyes.

Marcus knows he’s not a particularly sympathetic person, but even he isn’t proud of his thought, _If this is what the SIS has been reduced to going after, we might as well take a cue from that Love Actually character, tell the other superpowers to go screw themselves, and prepare for the speedy arrival of the nuclear missiles aimed at us._

“Yes,” he says, “I know. No, I’ve never cared. If you ask me, love isn’t a wonderful thing, and people of any gender getting together often does somehow end up hurting other people, including the relationships’ participants. However, I accepted that I’m in even more of a minority than your type is a long time ago. If people do me the courtesy of not trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, I’ll return it.”

Relaxing, Alex nods.

They sip their drinks.

“You don’t think I should work for them.”

“I never said that,” Marcus replies. “I would never say that. And if you were excited about this, I’d congratulate you. Since you aren’t, however, here’s what I will say: When I read about you someday or hear your name over the radio or television, when I see your picture, I hope it’s a smiling man with a good life. If you think I’m mischaracterising how GCHQ will affect you and the type of life you’ll lead, you’re a grown man, and you should rightly ignore me. If you think I’m right, however, then, it’s time to stop being a boy doing what his mother wants, prepare yourself for some hard times, and try to figure out what really would make you happy.”

He finishes his drink. “Now, I am going to ask you two make me two promises.”

“What are they?”

“One, unless you are absolutely, completely, positively sure someone is negative, never, ever have sex of any kind without a condom. Two, if you ever decide to experiment with drugs, do it safely.”

“I would never-”

“Just promise me so that I can leave.”

“I promise,” Alex agrees.

“Good,” Marcus says. He produces a wallet and tosses it over. “Now, after I leave, see if you can find that boy and return this to him.”

Alex looks between him and the wallet. “Professor Shaw-”

Standing up, he explains, “It would be too depressing to count the number of times I’ve been around people who’ve looked at me and held their purses and wallets a little closer. If everyone assumes you’re a thief with just a glance, you might just pick up an unexpected talent or two.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then, reaches over to clasp Alex’s shoulder. Trying to ignore the pity at how quickly Alex subtly leans into the touch, he says, “Whatever happens, good luck.”

…

Years later, he finds himself looking at a picture of Alex Turner and reading about the 5.4 million lives irrevocably changed for the better thanks to his work. In the picture, Alex is standing with his husband, and the photographer managed to capture how almost sickeningly in love the two are.

The man has a somewhat floppy haircut and is wearing a proper suit and a pair of shoes, but Marcus recognises him as the once barefoot boy losing a battle for jelly babies against a vending machine.  


End file.
